


Cross

by Yoite



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Aziraphale is Bad at Being an Angel (Good Omens), BDSM Scene, Belts, Blasphemy, Bondage, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Consensual Kink, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Dirty Talk, Dom Gabriel (Good Omens), Dom/sub, Dominant Crowley, Established Relationship, Good Omens Bingo 2021, Hair-pulling, Horny Aziraphale (Good Omens), Humiliation, Impact Play, M/M, Not really though, Prompt Fill, Punishment, Roleplay, Size Kink, Sorry Not Sorry, Spanking, Strong Crowley (Good Omens), Top Crowley (Good Omens), cross - Freeform, submissive Aziraphale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-21 05:54:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30017130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoite/pseuds/Yoite
Summary: Aziraphale is ready to accept Heaven's punishment for his sins. Or is he?Written for Good Omens Bingo 2021 (prompts: "Cross" and "Holiday"). Likely my weirdest Good Omens story so far.Please note the tags!(NB: The "second chapter" is a little crack piece added as a commentary on the main fic, the tags only apply to chapter one.)
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 38
Collections: Good Omens Bingo 2021, Top Crowley Library





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [Janara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janara/pseuds/Janara/works) for reassurance and advice on this little fic.

The waiting had to be the worst part, stretching like stale, bitter chewing gum about to disintegrate in his mouth. Whatever else they had in store for him, it couldn't possibly be worse than the wait.

Aziraphale's senses were as sharpened by the ice-cold illumination as if he had been plunged into the most profound darkness. He could make out the slow, weighty footsteps from far away, drawing eerily closer, a few decibels at a time.

Finally, Gabriel entered his line of sight and stopped about ten feet away, gazing at him with barely disguised repugnance, all sharp, straight lines and pale grey unforgiveness.

"Aziraphale."

The angel winced at the sound of those four familiar syllables, straining against the leather cuffs that held him in place. He was hardly worthy of that name now. Still, he held the archangel's gaze defiantly, for as long as he could bear that frosty purple. Until, inadvertently, he let his head drop to inspect the blindingly shiny floor.

"You have been such a disappointment to us, Angel of the Eastern Gate." 

"I know", Aziraphale sniffed softly.

"You have allowed temptation to lead you astray. Succumbing to the ways of the flesh. Eating. Drinking."

Even with his head bowed low, he could hear Gabriel's cruel smirk.

"And other unseemly human pleasures. Isn't that so?"

"Y-yes", Aziraphale muttered, trying to suppress a shiver that crawled from the top of his scalp all the way down to his toenails.

"You have been fraternising with a demon, haven't you? That vile, abhorrent creature that goes by the name of Crowley?"

The angel could feel Gabriel step closer, just by the way the air seemed to make a wide berth around him. 

"What does that make _you_ , Aziraphale?"

"Disgusting", the angel admitted, nervously shifting on the spot. Not that he could go anywhere. He was handcuffed to a large, wooden cross, facing it, in the middle of one of those white, empty rooms that angels were meant to find pleasing.

"Correct."

Aziraphale bit his lip, watching helplessly as the tips of Gabriel's polished brown shoes came into view. Then his head was jerked up by the hair. He whimpered with shock at the tearing pain, but even more so at the embarrassment of having to face Gabriel's judging eyes from this close.

"What is it about him that you want so badly, Aziraphale?"

The angel clenched his jaw, trying to squirm away, to hide behind the stipe of the cross in-between them, but it only made Gabriel's grip tighten.

"Is it his hot, thick cock that you need? Is that it?"

Gabriel's lips pulled apart in a knowing smile. 

"Do you enjoy it when he fucks you long and hard with that huge cock of his?"

Aziraphale squeezed his eyes shut, heart throbbing in his chest. Utterly inappropriately, it wasn't the only part of him that throbbed.

"Open your eyes, Principality", Gabriel ordered mercilessly, pulling at his hair to elicit a sharp exhale. "You know how this goes. You confess, then you receive your punishment. Those are the rules. Or would you like me to get the others, too, so they can witness your shame?"

"No..", Aziraphale pleaded, licking his lips as he obeyed.

"Out with it, then."

The angel took a deep breath, a tight ball of heat pulsing in his stomach before rising, up through his throat, spilling from his mouth, liberated.

"Yes", he spluttered, "I enjoy it! I want him to kiss me with his forked tongue, to touch me with those big, strong, dirty hands, anywhere he likes! I love it when he makes me come on his cock! I love it all!"

"That's what I thought."

Gabriel nodded almost fondly as he let go of Aziraphale's hair, taking a step back and folding his hands behind him.

"You are a bad, _bad_ angel, aren't you? Such a dirty little principality."

"I'm afraid so.."

"Now, for your punishment."

"W-what will it be?" Aziraphale trembled, feeling little drops of sweat rise on his neck. "Are you going to kick me out of Heaven, or -"

"Oh no, no, no, sunshine", his opposite grinned smugly, an unexpected red flicker kindling in the purple of his eyes, "where would be the fun in that?"

When his hands came into view again they were holding a black leather belt.

"I've got something much better planned for you, given how much you enjoy sensing with your skin."

"Wha -", the angel swallowed, mouth dry, skin prickling, as if crawling with ants. "I- I'm an _angel_. You can't -"

"Oh, but I can, and I will."

Aziraphale's eyes remained glued to that thin, black snake as it travelled to his side before moving out of his field of vision. The voice came from behind him now, sending his pulse flying.

"And you will take it, just like you deserve to."

"Please, no -", Aziraphale gasped, desperately tugging at his bonds, yet the cuffs did not give an inch. "I can't -"

"Beg as much as you like. You know there's only one thing you can say to stop this."

"I'm _sorry!_ "

"That's not the one."

The voice came from just above his ear now, not only softer, but a different pitch and timbre altogether.

"Anything else you'd like to say, maybe?"

"No", Aziraphale exhaled, suddenly calm, submitting to his fate. "It's true, I deserve the punishment."

"Mmh."

He could feel two steady hands reach around him to undo the button and zip of his trousers, slowly pulling them down his legs. Then his underwear.

The first stroke made him flinch in surprise, as light as it was, warming up his buttocks. Even when he expected it, the first one always caught him out.

Aziraphale closed his eyes, making a conscious effort to relax. Tensing his muscles only made it worse, and harder to achieve the desired effect. 

He leaned his forehead against the rough wood of the cross, accepting the blows as they came harder, biting into his skin until he could no longer stop the tears. 

Still, he was given enough time between each hit so he could say the word, if he wanted to. He did not want to. There was no wanting. No more guilt, no shame or fear or anxiety, all of it dissolved in this delirious heat that made his blood foam. Even the pain existed somewhere outside of his body now. He was wrapped in dark, delicious cotton candy, only penetrated by the sharp snaps of the belt.

Until they stopped and Aziraphale gave a disappointed mewl. There was a hand on his chin, carefully lifting his face. It was a struggle to open his eyes, to focus them, but he tried his best.

".. why did you..", he mumbled, the concept of words feeling foreign in his mouth, "..I haven't.. yet.. I can take.. more.."

"No, you've had enough", Crowley said firmly before leaning in to give him a brief kiss on the temple. 

The bright, sterile light was already dimming around them as the demon reached up to release his hands.

"Wait..", Aziraphale whispered, "don't untie me.. yet."

"Hm?"

".. take me.."

Crowley stopped in his tracks, cupping his face.

"We shouldn't, not right now. This hasn't been agreed."

".. please.."

The demon was quiet for a few moments, stroking his cheek.

"Alright. But gently."

Crowley moved behind him again, one hand on his hip, the other wrapped around his damp forehead as he entered him. Aziraphale sobbed, sinking into the slow, deep rhythm as the demon kissed the side of his face, licking along the thin wet paths his tears had left behind. Aziraphale's body was so sensitive from Crowley's previous efforts, it barely needed any time at all. The hand on his forehead slid a little lower as he was coming, Crowley's little finger slipping between his teeth and pressing against his tongue.

Aziraphale did not remember the next five, ten minutes, the undressing and getting into bed. Or being undressed, more likely. He was lying on Crowley's chest, under the blankets, warm and at peace, one of the demon's hands softly stroking his back.

"You're one kinky bastard, you know that?" Crowley gave a little laugh, kissing the crown of his head.

"Takes one to know one, I suppose."

Aziraphale looked up with a smile, but Crowley was already lost somewhere in the depths of his own mind. The angel snuggled a little closer, playing with his chest hair. Whatever they were doing here probably wasn't particularly healthy, for either of them. But he wasn't going to think about that right now. The whole point was to get a brief holiday from thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally inspired by me [trying and failing to draw Gabriel, who ended up looking like Crowley](https://yoite84.tumblr.com/post/645264292293246976/tried-sketching-this-behind-the-scenes-pic), which led to an interesting discussion with the dirty minded folk over on the GOB server. Here is [Sway's version featuring Dom Aziraphale / sub Crowley instead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29631012/chapters/73795740)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, feedback is always welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not so much a second chapter as a little "companion piece" fic I wrote after getting a few comments on "Cross", wondering about Gabriel's reaction if he were to find out.
> 
> This is pure crack and just for fun. I haven't added any tags as didn't want to distract from the main fic, but there is nothing in the below that could be disturbing (I think?).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to use this for my Good Omens Bingo prompt "Holy Water". :)

Neither side liked to admit it, but they enjoyed meeting here from time to time. The tables were just the right amount of sticky, the ale just a little on the warm side, sinfully fatty no-nonsense pub food was served and the numerous fireplaces gave purgatory a cosy atmosphere overall. The screams of the cleansed could be regulated down via a discreet remote, when needed. 

"We have come together today because we have something of a situation", Metatron's voice boomed.

"What does he know about _coming together_ , right", Ligur snickered, playfully elbowing Hastur in the ribs. 

The incongruously black-and-white head hovering in the middle of the large wooden table gave a frustrated sigh. As the only one of the group who had never been assigned a corporation, he was used to being bullied, by both sides.

"You're disrespecting the voice of God", Gabriel chided half-heartedly, busy cutting a neat, perfectly square piece from his Sunday roast. 

"Well, _duh_ ", Ligur stuffed a whole Yorkshire pudding into his gob, dripping gravy onto the already filthy carpet.

"Get on with it then", Sandalphon took a large gulp from his diet coke, washing down a mouthful of pickled onion flavoured Monster Munch, "I have a few smitings scheduled before dinner."

He smiled dreamily to himself, earning a jealous look from Dagon. 

"Alright, I'll show you, I'm just getting it up for you now", Metatron crackled with white noise.

"Doubt it", Ligur sneered, elbowing his neighbour at table in the side again. Hastur rolled his eyes. Ligur really couldn't handle his liquor.

The huge, half-transparent head buzzed and twitched for a moment before turning into a techni-coloured wide-screen projection of a young woman.

"The hiiiiillssss.. are aliiiiiiveeee.."

"OH PLEASE NO!", everyone on both sides of the table turned away in pain, covering their eyes and ears with whatever limbs were currently available to them.

"Sorry, sorry", Metatron huffed, "had the wrong thing queued up, just getting the clip for you now, an event I happened to observe earlier this week.."

The screen flickered up brightly, switching to a very different kind of scene. One that instantly gained almost everyone's attention.

"Say, is that..?"

"Az? No, can't be. Why is he..?"

"Oh, look, Gabe, it's you -"

The archangel gazed up from where he was carefully constructing a bite-sized meat-and-two-veg tower on his plate.

"Wait a second -"

"Hey, bobblehead, can you turn up the sound?"

"I'd rather not", Metatron warned, "but if you insist."

The conversation between the two entities on screen became audible at what seemed like a crucial moment. Everyone at the table was pretty certain it did not revolve around roosters. Gabriel's fork dropped to the floor, then his jaw followed.

"Gabe, Gabe, Gabe", Beelzebub smirked, looking slightly less bored than usual, "you better go wash out your mouth with holy water."

"Wait, that's -", the archangel muttered, too gobsmacked for words.

"This is not standard questioning procedure, Gabriel", Michael cocked a groomed eyebrow. "And where did you get that cross from?"

"That's not _me_!" Gabriel finally rediscovered his speech, jumping up and trying to cover up the screen, with the not quite desired effect that the curious footage was now projecting onto his brown coat.

"Can't you guys tell that's not _me_!?"

He was helplessly looking around the table.

"Walks like you", Uriel shrugged, chewing on a stalk of broccoli.

"And talks like you", Dagon confirmed.

"And stands like he's got a stick up his arse, just like you."

"Shut up, Bee!"

"All of you, shut up", Hastur leaned forward, licking his lips, "this is getting interesting."

"Didn't realise that's how you're handling things up there these days", Dagon nodded in approval, "very old school." 

"That true though? Him and -"

"All the sulphur fumes must be making you delirious, our guy would _never_ -"

Michael cut him off, pulling him back down into his seat by the elbow.

"Look."

" _See_! Told you it wasn't me", Gabriel pointed with a relief that only lasted for a moment, "wait, is that -"

"Hah!" Beelzebub buzzed, clapping their hands, "I'd started to suspect our boy's reports were mostly bragging, but looks like he's done well for himself on the corruption front!"

"And the back, too", Ligur chortled.

"The Antichrist will be in safe hands", Dagon agreed. She had a red-stained notepad in front of her out of nowhere and seemed to be taking detailed notes as she watched.

"Flash bastard knows how to have a good time", Hastur grumbled indignantly.

"This can't be happening!" Gabriel glared at Beelzebub, who was feeding Ligur's lizard a small roast potato. "You can't allow - ! Your guy can't just -!"

"Seems pretty capable to me."

"Your boy seems to enjoy it."

"What the fuck, Metatron?" Gabriel snarled, slamming his fists down on the table and making everyone's drinks jump a few inches. Miraculously, no alcohol was spilled. "Turn off this travesty!"

"So much for respecting the VOG", Metatron quipped in affront.

"Wait, I think they are finishing", Michael remarked with barely hidden disappointment, eyes glued to the screen.

"Oh no, Mikey", Ligur grinned, "they are only just starting.."

"TURN IT OFF!" Gabriel screamed.

The screen didn't quite obey him, but it paused, the freeze frame leaving very few questions open as to the nature of the protagonists' relationship.

"Well", Metatron sighed weightily, "what are we going to do about this?"

There was a moment of silence.

"Y'know", Dagon finally pondered, "those handcuffs look a bit flimsy to me, but I know a great leather manufacturer down in Cornwall -"

"The question was not how we can help improve their sex life!"

"Oh. Well, you should have made that clear."

"I can't believe they are using my image", Gabriel fumed, throwing his hands in the air, "my beautiful face! For their depraved little games! That's it! I'm gonna strangle that sorry excuse for an angel with Sandalphon's own two hands! I'm confiscating his corporation!"

Sandalphon gave a rather indifferent shrug, gnawing on a chicken leg.

"You think God'll want that corporation back now?", Ligur grinned.

"There will be punishment!"

Gabriel stormed out, slamming the door behind him with such a bang that the nine-tailed cat resting in front of the fireplace lifted its head and yawned, showing several rows of razor sharp teeth, before going back to sleep.

"Looks like they've got that part covered already", Uriel whispered in Michael's ear, suppressing a grin.

"Hey, now he's gone, can we watch the rest?" Dagon suggested. "I need it, for the files."

"Yeah, and zoom in a bit, will you?"

"And can I get another pint of Bishop's Finger?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my first time writing all the other angels and demons from GO, hope this was half as much fun to read as it was for me to write.


End file.
